Allotted Guilt
by werksocks
Summary: Two days before taking the stand, Rafael Barba's star witness is murdered while under police surveillance. In the wake of the event, and with a trial in the balance, things are only beginning to heat up. Before long, Rafael finds his personal and professional life colliding, and it's going to test every relationship he's formed with the SVU detectives.
1. Chapter 1

The sheets were soft against his skin - much softer than he would have assumed, given that their thread count had to be somewhere in the lower hundreds. If he had to guess, and if he had a little less wine in his system, he would hazard that they were jersey-knit. Not his favorite. But the Pinot Noir urged him to reconsider his distaste. They smelled faintly of something that he couldn't quite place; Cardamom, maybe? Cardamom and jasmine, and the warmth of the figure that lay next to him breathing quietly.

It took him longer than usual to notice the sound of his phone ringing some two yards away. His head turned as his vision sharpened a little. He was aware of two things: One, it was very late, and two, if someone was calling at this hour it was probably not for a light chat.

With some forced concentration, Rafael Barba pushed himself into a sitting position on the bed. The sheets slid down his body, pooling at his lap for a second before he tossed them aside and slid his feet onto the floor. The phone was still nestled into the pocket of his tailored slacks that lay crumpled on the hardwood flooring. Caller ID told him what he already knew, the name Olivia Benson shown across the screen. There wasn't any hesitation to press answer.

"Liv. What's up?" There was stirring in the bed behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder while taking a few steps further away, and lowering his voice. The detective on the other end spoke quickly, keeping her sentences concise but effective. A witness in an ongoing trafficking case had been murdered. They were supposed to take the stand in two days. The case, which until that point had been open-and-shut, was riding on that testimony. The news cut clear through the wine-induced haze. "Shit." He breathed, suddenly alert and acutely aware that he needed to do some serious strategizing. He needed to be in his office, surrounded by volumes of research materials and the calming effect of his desk. He needed the case in front of him. "Okay." There was more stirring from the bed, and when he glanced behind him again he was met with a set of sleepy eyes squinting at him. A quick plan to meet the detective at the station was made, and he hung up without a real goodbye. He could feel the gaze from the pillows still on him, his pants were scooped up in a hand, and quickly put on before returning to the edge of the bed.

"You're leaving." Rafael pressed his lips into a dissatisfied line for a second, then let his face soften as he looked down at the inviting gaze of a very sleep-disheveled woman.

"I have to. There was a complication-"

"Mm." She gave a vague, fatigued smile and rubbed her face into the pillow beneath her cheek. "You are a dealer in complications." He couldn't help the short, breathy laugh that escaped him. Her summation was the understatement of the century.

"Something like that. Listen -"

"Go." She muttered, hugging the blankets closer and peering at him with only one eye open now. "Get out of here. You're a very busy man with many important things to do."

"I'll call you later."

"No you won't." Both of her eyes were closed now, and she was smiling to herself. "Many important things, remember? Now get." The playfulness of her dismissal tugged the corner of his mouth into a brief smirk.

"I'll bring you coffee when I'm done." She didn't even respond, simply raised one slender hand and silently waved him in the direction of her door. Although he didn't want to leave the warmth of his surroundings, he was thankful that she wasn't going to hold this sudden disappearing act against him. It was easy to find the rest of his clothes, and in less than five minutes he was fully dressed and heading back out. One last glance back at the studio apartment, and then out into the cold.

Fall was settling quickly over New York City, and the early September night required a scarf and gloves for survival. So cool already; winter was probably going to be brutal. No matter that he had spent his entire forty-three years on the East Coast, he still wouldn't get used to the deep freeze that it settled into come the winter months.

The cab drivers this time of night were a hit-and-miss sort. It was a fifty-fifty chance that you'd end up with a lunatic, but he took his chances. Thankfully, the journey to the station didn't result in a grisly death, and the driver was tipped accordingly before Barba made the quick dash from cab to the doors of the station, desperately wanting the comfort of the stations heating system.

"Out late, Counselor?" Was the first thing that Rafael heard as he strode into the bull-pen. The question came from the perpetually smug detective Nick Amaro. Without reacting, Rafael gave the detective a glance over.

"Detective Amaro. Pleasure as always." The animosity between the two had never been less than a subtle sizzle, there was no reason for it to be any different now. Barba had his theories as to why the detective regarded him with so little appreciation, but it was all a moot point. Nick had a job, and Rafael had his. As far as he was concerned, there was no need to expend energy into worrying why they weren't braiding each others hair every Saturday night. It was no skin off his back.

Olivia Benson made an entrance, saving Rafael the need to try to keep up a repartee with the male detective. At the sight of her, his demeanor relaxed a little. Although he generally kept a professional distance, a friendship had been cultivated between the two. At least he could count on being among one friendly face, which was good, as the Pinot Noir still made his head feel a bit light. "Thanks for coming down so fast, Barba." Liv gave him a once over, noting the wrinkled trousers, and the un-tucked shirt beneath his jacket. She didn't say anything, but raised an eyebrow, which conveyed her amusement. "Sorry to interrupt your evening."

"Don't breathalize me, and we'll call it even." He offered, Olivia let out a short breath, and he pushed forward to prevent Amaro getting a word in. "So what happened?" Liv gave Nick a short look.

"Nick, grab Barba some coffee, will you? Meet us in my office." Her look was firm enough to keep the officer from protesting, and he left without incident. Honestly, Rafael would rather not send the detective to do what he could do himself, but he was also not in the game of arguing with Benson. As one might guess, she ruled the roost, and he wasn't about to ruffle feathers over a cup of coffee. So without waiting another moment, he followed. "You know, you didn't have to rush so quickly that you couldn't put on fresh clothes." She was smirking now, and he flashed her a look that very clearly read that she knew exactly what it meant that he wasn't wearing different clothes.

"I'm nothing if not punctual."

"I'll say."

"What happened, Liv?" Olivia sighed just as the door opened and Nick returned with a mug of steaming coffee, handing it off silently.

"Robert Milszenik was found dead in his hotel room an hour ago. Single gunshot to the head."

"Execution-style." Nick added, moving around Rafael to lean against the corner of the sergeant's desk. "No mistaking that this was a hit."

"But there was supposed to be a protection detail. How did this happen? How the hell did anyone even know that Milszenik was there?" Any lingering traces of warmth from the apartment he had left were evaporating rapidly. That part of his day was disappearing, being boxed up neatly and pushed to the back of his mind until he had time for it. There was no room in his night anymore for Pinot Noir and jersey sheets.

He threw himself into the case with reckless abandon, pushing everything else aside. It was his singular ability to compartmentalize that made him excellent at his job. When he worked, he was the embodiment of his work.

The sun was coming up before he even glanced outside a window, even then it was only an errant glance as he drained another cup of coffee in an uncountable succession. Intel had trickled in as the night progressed, but no matter what none of it seemed to help their case in any real way. The facts were what they were: their star witness was dead. Even though everyone in the room knew that it was undoubtedly ordered by the man on trial, a trafficker by the name of Leonard Chase, they couldn't prove it. Even if they could, proving that Chase had ordered the hit wouldn't save Barba the sudden gap in his case. There was a real chance that Chase could walk now, and that wasn't a reality that Barba felt comfortable with.

It was just after eight when Olivia came back into the office that he had claimed for the time being, and put a take-away container in front of him that smelled a lot like pancakes. "Thanks, Liv." He muttered absently, barely even looking up as he shuffled through papers. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, his hair was woefully out of place from him running his fingers through it so many times, and his eyes were sporting dark bags from the sleep deprivation. Detective Benson was staring at him intently, clearly disapproving of what she was looking at. He knew that he was fanatical about his work, and he was used to the expression on her face.

"Why don't you take a break, hm? Catch some sleep in the tombs." He couldn't deny that his vision was starting to blur, and that coffee was starting to have no effect on him at all. Deep down, he knew she was right, but he didn't want to confront that fact.

"I can sleep when I'm dead." He responded dismissively, giving the detective a brief look long enough for her to see that he was joking.

"Or you could sleep now. Come on, you have to be exhausted."

"And you?" In true Olivia fashion, she shook her head as if the idea was irrelevant.

"Doesn't matter. I'm used to it."

"You're not the only person who has pulled all-nighters, Detective." His time in law school was rife with them, and his subsequent legal career had its fair share as well.

"I don't have to argue a case in front of a jury tomorrow morning. You need some rest." She was right, but he didn't want to acknowledge it.

"I'm asking for a continuance. My star witness was murdered. Hopefully the judge will give me some time."

"Then all the more reason to get some rest. Barba, it's bad enough that you had to spend your night here. Don't kill yourself for this. As soon as we know more, we'll get ahold of you." He sighed, looking down at the mess of papers that were marked with notes in his handwriting. Taking that second to assess the situation, he was hit full-force with his fatigue. Suddenly, it was hard for him to tell how he had managed to stay awake at all.

"As soon as you know anything?" He repeated, already reaching for his jacket.

"Promise." The sound of her phone ringing got her attention while he gathered up his things and attempted to make a slightly less horrible pile of his notes. He'd take those home with him.

"And you're going to get some rest too, I hope?" He asked over his shoulder as he wrapped his scarf around his neck again.

"Can't." She responded, looking down at the phone in her hand after hanging up. "I just got a call about a rape in Midtown."

"No rest for the wicked." He gave her an apologetic look as he went for the door.

"You're telling me."

"Get some rest when you can, Detective." She just gave a nod and followed him out.

He didn't call, as predicted. He didn't grab coffee, either. Rafael made it home in a haze - he meant to do one or the other or both - and yet found himself at his own doorstep. It had been a long night. The weariness sunk into him, filled him up, and made his limbs hang as though they were made of lead. Red rimmed his light eyes, the lids practically sealing shut with every blink. Getting to sleep would be quick work, he was sure.

The apartment was neither messy nor spotless. Legal texts and papers were ever-present, and peppered the various surfaces, and there was more than one pair of leather shoes visible in the open living area. All of it went unnoticed by the counselor. His mission was singular: a glass of scotch, a shower, and his bed. Exactly in that order. The bathroom, when he entered it in all of it's soft lighting and clean tiled glory smelled faintly of the man's soap and shaving cream. A well-kept titanium safety razor was sitting askew within its holder, and the tin for the shave-cream was open. More often than not, this was how it looked. Rafael lived alone, and while he enjoyed a clean house, he usually found himself leaving in a hurry and returning in a daze. He could hire someone, he supposed, but despite his outward appearance, Rafael was not the sort of man that believed in someone else picking up after him. Too much pride, probably.

The remembered, for just a brief moment before falling asleep, that he should have called. He considered doing so, he really did. But the fatigue had taken hold of him, it gripped him and owned him, and sucked all willpower from him. He'd sleep for just a few hours, he told himself, and then he'd call. He'd call her on the way to his office. Maybe they'd get lunch. Maybe, if his continuance was granted, he'd see her the next night.


	2. Chapter 2

There had never been any real chance that Rafael was going to rest. Before too long his phone was rousing him once again, except that the person on the other end this time was a rather irate sounding District Attorney. Apparently news about Robert Milszenik's murder travelled quickly, and moreover, the DA was not pleased to be the last one to know. No more down-time.

The rest of the afternoon was spent alternately working on the case and attempting to consume enough coffee to keep Rafael conscious. He was a long way from his years in college where a lack of sleep only meant not staying out late the next night. It was a battle, but the longer he spent his time filing motions and making calls the more awake he felt. There was that fanatical streak in him again, taking the wheel.

The continuance was granted. It was a relief, but in reality it only really felt like a stay of execution for Barba. He had more time, but he wasn't a magician. As they say 'A dead man tells no tales', so despite the additional amount of prep, there was only so much the counselor could do. Still, if there was one thing that Barba were known for it was his unwillingness to back down. Stubbornness, some people called it - others were known to refer to it as being an asshole. Truthfully, he was sure that both were true.

The day hung on Rafael like an anchor, keeping him rooted firmly in his office until the well after the sun had set. If it hadn't been for his secretary, Shannon, leaning into his office to say goodnight, he might have never noticed the time. Once the spell of work had been broken, he was acutely aware of the rumbling in his stomach. God, food sounded good, when had he eaten last? There was that bagel he'd had… sometime. After bidding Shannon goodnight, he stared at the files in front of him- it was time for a break. He was sure that it would be another all-nighter, but it would be nice to get a bite and swing by the SVU office.

There was no time for a sit-down meal, so a Cuban Sandwich from one of his favorite little gems on the way would have to suffice. The sandwich was gone by the time he entered the station, and the addition of food had certainly perked him up a little bit. In fact, he was almost feeling optimistic about this continuance. Funny what a little thing like giving your body the fuel it needed could do for you. Speaking of fuel, before he went to find Olivia, he paused to grab some coffee.

"Barba." He turned to the sound of Amanda Rollins speaking. "To what to we owe the pleasure?"

"I needed to get out of my office for a little while. Stretch my legs. Thought I'd stop by and see if there's any news."

"Nothing yet. Just the same. We think we have a witness, but they're reluctant to talk."

"Can't imagine why." He mused, giving just the hint of a wry smile before taking a sip of his drink. Amanda gave an appreciative nod of her head to show her agreement.

"Didn't the Sarge say we'd give you a call if there were updates?"

"Mm," He agreed. "But I like to be thorough."

"That's fair. Liv is in her office if you're looking for her. I'm assuming that the coffee here isn't a very good attraction. Leg stretching or otherwise."

Detective Rollins was correct, the coffee was not a very good attraction. But it was a by-product of his greater purpose for being there. Much in the same way that you wouldn't stop into a hospital for a muffin from the cafeteria. The counselor didn't make it all the way to Olivia's office, instead he was met halfway.

"Barba, you look tired." Liv threw out, all the while holding a large coffee mug herself.

"Always the flatterer. Speaking of, did you even.. get any sleep?" His dry humor curled the corner of his mouth.

"Let's not talk about that." She dismissed, clearly indicating that sleep had evaded her grasps. "What brings you down?"

"I wanted to stop in myself for a minute, see if there was any news."

"Nothing we haven't passed on. I've been getting read the riot act every couple of hours from Dodds. It's been a real pleasure."

"Mm. I got a wake-up call from the DA. Literally. I've been in my office since noon."

"Then cheers." She raised her coffee cup to him, and he reciprocated with a smile, followed by a sigh.

"The continuance was granted-"

"Well that's good news."

"Yeah, and I think I might have a decent angle for the trial."

"Anything we can do?"

"Catch the guy that killed Milszenik?"

"We're working on it."

"I know." His light eyes cast down at the coffee in his hand, the creamer still swirling before it settled completely. If he were honest with himself, he'd come here for more than just the chance to stretch his legs. He'd come here for exactly this - to see Olivia. He'd needed a friendly face to break up all the paperwork that had been his only company all day. With the DA's office mostly emptied, it had been just him and his coffee maker. Although it could hold 12 cups, it made for lousy conversation. "Aside from getting chewed out by Dodds, how has the day been?" He was just making small talk now. He'd leave soon, probably continue working on the case from home.

"I wouldn't even know how to answer that question." She shrugged. "I'd say 'the usual', but the usual here is, well-"

"Grim. At best."

"Yeah."

Rafael's gaze wandered, the interior of the station felt so familiar to him. He'd lost track of how many times he'd passed through here over the previous few years. There was a certain sort of comfort to it. The detectives didn't always enjoy seeing him, and he would be lying if he said it was always a walk in the park to see them, but at the end of the day there was an understanding. Even when they were at each others throats, there was a common goal.

"What's that?" He asked suddenly, his eyes fixed on a screen near one of the conference tables. There was an image displayed, it must have been a DMV photo. Pictured was a familiar face. Not familiar from his line of work, but familiar from a time of wine and jersey sheets. He walked over, needing to take a closer look - needing to confirm that it was who he thought. It was. "Why are you looking into Katherine Shepherd?" Surprise washed over Olivia's face at his obvious recognition.

"You know her?"

"She…" He glance back at the image. "She's a teacher. She does a lot of work for developmentally disabled children. My mother knows her." Having a poker face was one of Rafael's greatest assets; despite the seed of panic blossoming in his chest, he kept his expression level. Sargent Benson clearly looked unsure of how to phrase her next statement, but resolved herself quickly.

"She was assaulted last night." This piqued the attention of the counselor, his mind immediately racing. He'd just been there the night before. Early morning, actually, if he was honest.

"She disclosed?" He asked, now wondering if he should be making calls of his own.

"Her neighbor found her. Her door was open, she was unconscious on the bed. She came-to long enough to authorize a rape kit, but she hasn't been cognitive since. Her attacker did a real number on her." Rafael felt breathless, unsure of what to ask or how to proceed. He should disclose that he was in the house. He knew that he should. His fingerprints, his DNA, they had to be all over the house. On the bed.

"The rape kit," He said, his voice coming out ever so slightly quieter than he had intended. "It's been conducted? You're running the DNA?"

"The lab is running it. We got a call earlier, there were two semen samples found. There were two wine glasses, dirty dishes. We think she might have had.. a consensual encounter before her attacker found her. Or maybe… I don't know, the other guy brought in back up and they tag-teamed. She was worked over pretty heavily. There's tearing, and bruises, and a pretty significant head trauma. We'll know more when they're able to get two clean samples."

"I'll save you a little time." He replied, looking to the image and then back to Olivia. "One is going to come back as me." It took just over a second for the information to register with the Sergeant, as it dawned over her, her cup was placed on the nearest surface. He could see her searching for words, her brow furrowing as she visibly vacillated between confusion, and something that looked quite a bit like aggravation.

The silence stretched between them, Rafael's expression never wavered, though his mind wouldn't stop it's incessant whirring. He was split, cleanly down the middle. On one hand, he was very much the Rafael Barba that was expected; he couldn't stop worrying about what this might mean for his career. Headlines were whipping through his mind with his name tied to a rape case, and not as a prosecutor. The implications that he had been in the same home, with the same woman. And yet, his other side - he was consumed with needing to know if she was alright. Of course, she wasn't. Not in the usual sense. But something that felt acutely close to fear was welling in the pit of his stomach, and that side of him felt like it would win out. It might have, had Sargeant Benson not broken her silence at last.

"I need a minute to think about this." There was a war going on behind her cool expression. She took two steps away before rethinking, and turning around to him. "Don't go anywhere. You're not leaving until you answer questions."

Rafael had known that he would have to answer questions, even if he hadn't actively thought about it. It only made sense. He had been present in the home where an assault had taken place. There would certainly be things to answer to. Yet, as he stood there, all he could think was one thing: he should have brought coffee.


	3. Chapter 3

Worlds away, Leonard Chase sat in his cell in Rikers. It had been a good day for him. He'd slept well the night before, he'd made nice with a handful of the prison gangs, he'd even flirted with one of the female guards. He was counting the minutes until the news would break that the star witness in his trafficking case was dead. They'd have to reveal it at some point. Maybe the eleven o'clock news? Maybe they'd play it close to their chest. No doubt that ADA in his tailored suits was scrambling. Leo would like to see that, the guy was such an arrogant prick.

Leonard raised his head as the pretty guard walked past his cell. She peered in, sneered, and hissed at him.

"You keeping to yourself, Chase?" Leonard stood up, went to the front of his cell and slammed his palms against the bars in an obvious display of threat. "Back off!" She barked, physically removing his hands from the bars and then pulling out her baton.

"I'm not looking for trouble." Leo spat, returning to his bunk as she walked away. His clenched fist relaxed, and he looked down at the crumpled piece of paper that had been passed to him when she had moved his hands. He read over the brief message and smirked. It had been done. That ADA really was in for a rough time. Today was a good day.

The detectives in the Special Victims Unit went about their business, ignoring the presence of the ADA. Rafael was practically a fixture there, no one was surprised to see him and in those minutes he was thankful for the afforded invisibility. Olivia had yet to surface from her office, but Detective Amaro had gone in and out a number of times. The look on his face told Rafael that Nick had been briefed on the current situation, but the detective said nothing.

He'd been hoping for a call, some excuse to get him out of there so at least he could feel like he was being productive. He wanted to go to the hospital - but he wouldn't be permitted to. Not until he was no longer a person of interest.

"Barba." The curt tone to Olivia's voice lifted Rafael's gaze. "Why don't we have a little chat." He had known Olivia and been around in the business long enough to know it wasn't a real request. He never responded nor hesitated, simply followed Olivia into one of the interview rooms in the same way that he had so many times before.

"You should have told me." She started. Rafael, again, stayed quiet. "You should have said that you were at the house sooner."

"I'm not really interested in being lectured, Sergeant." He spared her only a fleeting glance before sitting down. Liv, on the other hand, paced a few times before taking a seat. Clearly there was more that she wanted to say - Rafael didn't blame her, but he also didn't care at the moment. Tense quiet reigned before Olivia let out a frustrated sigh and moved forward.

"How did you meet Katherine Shepherd?" Rafael's eyes levelled with hers.

"I met her at an event for teachers. I was attending to support my mother, Katherine was there to talk about Special Education reform."

"And when did you start seeing each other?"

"We didn't." He said abruptly, looking back at the table. Olivia's raised eyebrows were visible in his peripheral vision. "Last night was the first time that…" He cleared his throat, and shifted in his seat before settling and fixing an even stare to Olivia. "That we had slept together." He didn't want to be discussing this. As a man that played his cards very close to his chest, this was far outside his comfort zone.

"Barba, you have to know how this looks." Liv toned, sounding weary and at the same time frustrated.

"I do."

"She was assaulted on the same night - that you're freely admitting was the first night that you were intimate. You don't have a relationship. She's young-"

"She's nearly thirty." Rafael clipped, feeling a bubble of indignation rise up inside him.

"You're in your forties."

"That's irrelevant."

"It's not, Barba. Not if we're talking about how this looks for you."

"I don't need consultation on how to handle my image, thanks." The sharpness of his response caused Liv to sit back. She set her jaw in irritation. "Do you have any more pertinent questions, or am I free to go? Have you even been able to interview her yet?" He knew that the answer was no, but he still held the hope that she had woken up, and maybe a field detective had gone to see her.

"The hospital hasn't contacted us to let us know that she's conscious." Liv pinched the bridge of her nose. The tension hung, like smoke in the room while Rafael watched Olivia switch between her clear irritation and what Rafael assumed was sympathy. The indignation ebbed, finally dissipating entirely to be replaced with a gentle ache; like skin that had been rubbed raw. The sensation sank into him, filled him with that dull, unavoidable discomfort. It smoothed the edges of his anger and cooled his own irritation.

"It wasn't just a one-off thing." When he finally spoke again, he had abandoned the levelled-gaze, the lawerly power-play.

"Barba, you just said-"

"I just mean - it wasn't just a one-night-stand. We knew each other, spent time together. It wasn't dating, but it's not like I picked her up at a bar either."

"You were friends." The title made his stomach sink. Yes, friends, he supposed they were. He didn't know when it had happened, but all the evidence pointed to it.

"I didn't do this, Liv." They both knew that, but saying it out loud still felt necessary. Despite knowing that their encounter was completely consensual, it didn't rule out the side of him that knew that a defense lawyer would cling to the fact that he had been there.

"I know." The door opened to the interview room, and Nick Amaro was poking his head in.

"Sorry to interrupt." He introduced himself, and genuine remorse seemed to cover his features.

"You're fine, Nick. We're done. What do you need?" Liv responded.

"It's Katherine Shephard. She's awake." This news immediately perked Olivia up, her whole posture changed and the fatigue disappeared from her expression. A glance passed between her and Rafael that spoke volumes. He knew that he couldn't go with her. He knew that she wished it was different, she knew that he understood but that it didn't make it better.

She left. Abruptly, and with nothing else to say to assuage the gnawing fear in the pit of Rafael's stomach. He had to find comfort enough himself.

She was awake, he repeated it in his mind, finding what little aid he could there. At least she was awake.


End file.
